


The Life of a Part-time God

by sesty_exe



Series: The Otherverse [3]
Category: Original Works
Genre: Adventure, Deities, Devils, Fantasy, Gen, Gods, book one of an incoming disaster, but revised and outlined i guess, castlevania mention, demigod - Freeform, haha i havent watched it and i involve it in this story, lol this is the third time im posting this story, more will be added as story progresses, oh ya this is gonna be a series lmAO, supernatural in a realistic setting, two nerds watch castlevania - freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sesty_exe/pseuds/sesty_exe
Summary: In the town of Gardenia, the supernatural is the natural to its denizens of the metro to the rural outskirts.Cafe baker Mikaela Andersson gets tangled up in the middle crossfire of the supernatural when her aunt dies from unexpected causes...And picks up a relic disguised as a parasol that once belonged to the reverend aunt.Overtime, Andersson realizes two things: that everything is not what it seems-And how she's wrought into fate's twisted game of a prophecy.





	1. A Simple Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of the end--local protagonist picks up an umbrella that shouldn't have been picked up.
> 
> Shit ensues.

__ A city, quiet and reserved, rises with the beaming sun on a foggy Monday. Some chose to sleep in for a few minutes or decided to rise with sun. It was a day of normalcy to them.   
  
Yet, when was this city ever stilled in normalcy?   
  


 From the flock of cherubs flying over in the night skies of Colton, to the invasive plant species sprouting from the ground in Trenton, it was no normal, plain city. For some, they've embraced the wackiness with open arms while others packed and moved.    
  
However, that's for another day, another time.    
  
 There was an abandoned canal cut off from the water system that tunnels throughout the city. With deep cracks filled with vines and roots from a nearby tree, floral took ahold of the cement water hole. Flowers dotted the vines as pink weeds speckled underneath the tall grass above.    
  
 Then, a beam of golden light struck one of the many vine wrapped pillars of the canal. More cracks shrewd the foundation of the cement that waned.    
  
 There, a woman with dark brown hair tied into a messy, chignon bun appears. Her eyebrows were furrowed, knitting together in gathered frustration at the invisible adversary.    
  
"Come out, you  _ fiend _ ," she hissed in a low tone.    
  
 So, they do. A smug smirk tugged at their lips while their lithe form became tangible from the camouflage of shadow. With vermillion eyes squinted in vexatious glee, he cackled, "Here I am, in the flesh, M-jay!"    
  
A ball of fire darted its way at his face, only to be countered by a wall of chains.    
  
 "Why are you doing this?", the woman questioned. Her voice is is less harsh, less steeled. The wrinkles in her face, while concealed by makeup, became noticeable with wrinkles of worry on her face.    
  
"Why am  _ I _ doing this? Well, why not?", the other scoffed.    
  
 Two mulberry chains whisked by the woman as she prompted to dodge them. A few more brisking her way and she countered with the hilt of the steel embedded umbrella. Flurries of dark violet and black flew about as more ether chains collided with the green and purple umbrella.    
  
"You  _ know _ why, Mjrana. All of you know  _ why _ . Yet you pretend not to and pin the blame on  _ me _ !"    
  
 More chains spewed out from the ground and Mjrana with no delay in speed. With each counterattack, the sharpened tip grazed at the leather armor more and more, until it became a haphazard twist of chains.    
  
She was trapped, with escaping alive seeming such a futile fate.    
  
 "Faustus,  _ listen _ ," her voice trembled into a whisper. "I have no intentions on blaming you…or  _ killing _ you."   
  
 Scorn was all that traced through his veins as hearing those words of intentions. "How can I even trust you? You've said that not once but  _ twice _ now!"    
  
The corrosive chains were tugged at, pulling them closer and closer to the woman's arms and legs.    
  
 Her hand wielding the umbrella was shaky as aiming at the intersecting chains to let out another burst of energy. With some form of a miracle, a blast of gold broke through the chains, dissolving the rest that were taut.   
  
 Once she was freed, she lunged forward at the other with brute force. The emerald green and amethyst fabric of the umbrella wrapped around her right arm before contracting into a longsword. The burning sting of tears pricked at her eyes once she yelled the words, " _ Vanguard _ !" into the fresh open.    
  
 Marigold coursed over her body, through every vein up until the nylon folds at her arm. With a faint glow followed, the embroidery on the blade's hilt beamed with light gold until—    
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered before the rush of spectral energy pushed back Faustus.    
  
 It should have done the trick, as usual. That was a special move of hers that was known to pulverize anything of ethereal or darkness quality. That was what Faustus was—a being of the dark, entrenched in it from mind to soul.    
  
 However, a vague shadow wavered underneath the fog of dirt and dust that was caught with the force of the blast.    
  
From behind, a voice draped in snide asked, "Remmus taught you well, didn't he?"    
  
"What? No-  _ no _ . You- you couldn't have…"   
  
 Distraught bled unto her face as the other found joy in her distress. With a chain summoned in front of her, Faustus continued, "Did he, oh- I don't know, teach you  _ enough _ ?"   
  
 The magic chain ragged into her abdomen, piercing through metal, leather, and cloth. Mjrana gurgled out, a hand hovering over one of the links of the chains to tug it out.    
  
It was futile—this was her demise.   
  
 A soft smile twitched at the corners of her lips as the bitter taste of iron trickled into her mouth. She knew that corrosion settled in already, tainting what could've been recovered.    
  
 Mjrana's emerald green eyes glanced at the sword with its tip eroding to obsidian black, only stretching further down. With a hoarse whisper, she muttered under her final breath, "May valor and victory find you, Millie."    
  
 The once spiteful glint that shimmered in his red eyes dulled to one of pity. This was another body to the tally of many sins committed behind him. Faustus could've stopped years, upon eons ago from this happening, but fate had other things in store.    
  
 The thrashing of water rushing throughout the canals were heard not afar, as per summoned by the other in black . Before fading out in ash, he glanced back at the woman bound by the chain magic.   
  
"I should be the one apologizing," he states—and the flow of black water rushes in, sweeping the body up with it.   
  


  
**_\---_ **   
  


  
"Well speak of the devil! You actually arrived on time!"    
  
 The bell above the pushed door rung its dulled ring, with a woman wrapping a green apron around her khakis once she's in. Inside, it's a small cafe with sweets on display at the counter. There was a girl leaning against the register with a sly glint in her eyes as watching the other shuffle to the back.    
  
 "I should've  _ slept _ in," she comments and yawns. She stretches out her back as emphasizing the point of being both tired and sleepy.   
  
"When was the last time you've slept again?", the cashier asked.   
  
"…I'm not sure," the baker remarked while tying her coily curls into a makeshift bun.   
  
 The register nods despite apparent worry in her eyes. "Uh-huh," she says. "Anyways, Millie, the boss needs ya for somethin'."    
  
" _ Something _ ?", the brunette croaks out. "Rylee, did you tell her about that broken China teapot?!"    
  
 The sly smile cracked into laughter at the baker's anxiety trickling in. "Pfft- what? Nah man, she jus' said it's personal biz with  _ you _ ."    
  
"That's even  _ worse _ !"   
  
 Nonetheless, she then tread down the dimly lit hallway, turning right into a light peach room. It was painted from ceiling to walls, mahogany flooring laminated as knocked on the door.    
  
"Come in," a smooth voice spoke in response.    
  
 She tiptoes in, taking notice of the manager of the bakery-cafe shoppe. Nimble copper hands intertwined together while her chin rested atop. Half-lidded, forest green eyes shifted at the other once the first step was taken. She then beckons with a soft smile, "Why are you tiptoeing into my office, Mikaela?"   
  
A nervous laugh fell from Mikaela's mouth in response. "Nooo particular reason?" 

 

 Despite the genuine, soft smile of the manager bringing a welcoming aura, something lingered within those eyes. A sense of worry, of hinged grief that was kept away from the baker. As Mikaela walked over to the seat, she cracked the door just before a gust of wind from the open windows pushed it closed.    
  
So, she asks, "What's up, ma? Is something wrong?"    
  
"I…know how close you are with Aunt M-Jay. You both are practically the ideal mother-daughter relationship, but…"    
  
 The woman took in a deep breath, averting her glazed eyes away that were tearing up. Her thumb twiddled at the pen's bottom while the brunette put two and two together.    
  
 The fact that the aunt slipped off into obscurity a day after her birthday; the fact that she basically went off the radar from  _ everyone _ , Mikaela included. It was odd—at best—but the implications that something  _ worse _ happened dried her throat a bit.    
  
She bit at her twiddling thumb and glanced at the brunette, "She's…she's dead, Millie. Aunt M-Jay- she's- she's dead."    
  
Blank.   
  
Everything blanked out then from her mind.    
  
 What were once emerald green eyes shining with hope, brimming with aspirations and potential became bleak and dull. Dull with grief, with misery. Her mouth dried to the point it was hard to swallow down the pill. It was at this point everything around her slowed to a break slamming halt.   
  
" _ Dead _ ?", she mutters under her breath, grasping at the edge of the chair until her knuckles were shown.   
  
"She was found in one of the canals this morning, just- just drifting in the water."    
  
 There were tears being held back by the sheer perseverance of the woman's persona as she finished. A heavy inhale and ragged exhale followed after her head hung low, stray gray hairs falling out of the bun.    
  
To Mikaela, her world was shattered.    
  
 Someone  _ murdered _ her. Sure, it wasn't stated, just vagued along the lines. Even then, that's no accident.   
  
"You…you can take the day off if you'd like—"    
  
 The brunette rose up from the chair, swinging the door open and rushed out the room before her mother finished. Mouth agape, her lips closed as the door closed with a slam. The room now was instilled in silence, save for the low hum of the air conditioner.   
  
This was aphysixating silence.   
  


  
**_\---_**   
  


  
 At that point in time, she could've found patience and lent it to stay there longer. Yet she didn't—she had to get out of there when the stinging burn pricked in her eyes.    
  
 Now, she was in her car, head pressed against the car wheel while the tears continued to flow out. Mikaela felt at peace to cry to herself, to be alone to do so with ease.    
  
 After a good minute of crying, she blew her nose into the apron that was still wrapped around her waist. A weak chuckle hiccuped out of her, "God that's gross."   
  
Then, her purse began vibrating.   
  
 It was a pulsing vibrate that would come and go every second, added with the white light beaming in the black purse. Picking up the phone, she answers as recognizing the chipper chiptune ringtone set for this particular person.    
  
"Millie! Wait- are you awake or are you still asleep?"    
  
Again, a laugh came from the brunette as she responds, "I'm awake, Enid. What's up?"    
  
"Nothin' much! I'm on break and I have some good news to tell ya! God, I wish I could tell ya but I can't."    
  
She sniffled before clearing her throat, "Why can't you?"    
  
"It's a surprise!", the voice on the other line chirped.   
  
 A red car pulls in next to her space—must be another person that works for the afternoon shift, she assumes. A low hum was all she expressed while cranking the car engine. "I don't do well with  _ surprises _ , y'know," the brunette teases.    
  
"It's not that type of surprise!", the other reassures, "It's…somethin' I'm gonna tell you when I get off. Alright? Alright."    
  
"Wait- you're hanging up already?"    
  
"Five minute rule or somethin'. I hate this job but it pays well enough for me to slave away for a  _ little _ longer."   
  
 As Mikaela pulls out, she snorts at the comment—then drops her phone between her seat and the door. "God  _ dammit _ I need headphones. Anyways, cya on the flip side!"    
  
She was sure that Enid must've caught that before hanging up.    
  
Well,  _ mostly _ sure.    
  


  
**_\---_ **   
  


  
It's moments like these that Mikaela wished she paid attention to road signs.   
  
 Her sense of direction is of that to a wandering cabbage—senseless. She's thankful that Gardenia isn't a bustling metro that'd surely get her in a car wreck, but case and point: she needs a map.   
  
 While gut instinct told her to take this pathway of a rocky, bumpy back road, she was having second thoughts of turning around and speeding out of there. Yet, she still pursued on, deeper and deeper into the forest where oak and willow bustle.  
  
Then, she drives by a vineyard of a canal.   
  
 It's not exactly a vineyard, but it could've been one before from the looks of it. Puddles of murky black and purple taint the cream cement foundations of the abandoned canal tunnel. Pieces of chain links were scattered everywhere alongside with branches and tendrils—and one specific item: an umbrella.   
  
 An umbrella of purple and green, with a smidge of obsidian black at the tip. It's frills at the rim of the folds were taint with black. This was enough to pique Mikaela's interest that she parked her car in a clear opening and got out.   
  
 It was a steep slide down from above, save for almost getting her foot wrangled in vine. Looking around, she made sure that nobody was around in this rather remote part of the forest that led to the one of many abandoned water systems.   
  
 Sepia tinted hands grazed the aluminium handle of the umbrella, trailing down to the soft, lace frills of green and purple that faded by black. For a moment, it clicked in her mind that this was one of many of Aunt M-Jay's umbrella, considering her history of collecting umbrellas and parasols alike, but she shook it off.   
  
That is, until something latched onto her arm.   
  
 Not a snake, a spider, or any of that sort, but the nylon folds that stretched itself out to latch onto her. Something then pierced itself into her skin, earning a sharp yelp from her before she dropped the umbrella. The wraps around her arm remained—however, they'd began turning into the lighter hues of orange and pink.  
  
 What was once an umbrella shifted itself into a frilly parasol with a rose pink orb at the tip cup of it. The nylon folds unwrapped themselves from her arm, leaving a trail of puncture wounds in her wake that were akin to a dog's bite. " _Someone_ was a masochist for having this umbrella," Mikaela hisses at it, darting off to her car.   
  
That is, before she's pulled back by a pull by something. Or _someone_.  
  
 Another sharp yell falls upon deaf ears as she's sucked into a mist of midnight blue and starry black, both colors colliding and swirling into one as she's brought into a world of unknown. Gleams of ocean blue and jade green beam above her as a sort of borealis effect, with white dots speckled about in the realm.  
  
 A voice of ethereal transcendence rebukes, " _You can't abduct someone with every chance you get, Remmus! Have some decency!"_   
  
Another voice then scoffed in retort, " _Abducting? Quite the cruel term. I prefer, hm- pull-ins?"_   
  
With bubbling frustration, Mikaela chimes in, "Excuse you but, hey! You just abducted _me_! I don't like that!"  
  
 Two pairs of white, beaming eyes simmered into existence. One with a glint of vexing conceit while the other had a daunting, steely gaze enhance by their eyelashes and eyeliner.   
  
 With a condescending tone, one of them spoke, " _I've expected mortals to pick up the Scassore, but a mere halfling coddled by mortal morality exceeds my lowest expectations."_  
  
"Geez, you sure are the life of the party," she snarked in response. 

 

A giggle was followed in suit of her remark before clearing their throat. Whispers incomprehensible to the brunette were exchanged back and forth, with words of a wielder to that wielder being her of all people in the universe. Soon, the whispers were hushed.   
  
_"A halfling has no right or audacity to wield the Scassore,"_ the voice of laced conceit returns. _"You are not worthy of its liking."_   
  
 "Dude, I got bit by an umbrella and my aunt's dead," she marks her emphasis by picking up the orange and pink frilled parasol that 'bit' her. "I'm tired. Can I just go home?"  
  
 Those pairs of eyes flew open with shock at the umbrella that was in her hands. The voice that was filled with pompous entitlement quivered with disbelief, _"The Scassore…chose you…you're its fated wielder…"_  
  
A pause trails through in the midnight mist of the realm.   
  
" _What_?"   
  
The arrogance in their ambient voice returns, _"You, halfling, are the new wielder of the Scassore. Try not dying, will you?"_   
  
"I'm _no_ halfling and—"   
  
 She was pulled out of the starry abyss before finishing her sentence. All that was in that realm—the borealis, the mist, the midnight blue skies dotted by the stars beyond in the oasis—vanished as she's pulled out of there and back to reality.   
  


  
**_\---_ **   
  


 

It felt like an hour went by and yet, the sun remains.   
  
 Her eyes averted over to the car that was parked underneath the oak trees. Deciding it was best to take the umbrella with her—considering that was nothing of high trip—Mikaela climbed out of the canals.   
  
 She throws herself into her car while chucking the parasol to the backseat. An exasperated groan follows as she shifts herself upright in the driver's seat, cranking the engine once more. However, a chiptune ring of her phone interrupts the processing of thoughts to drive out of there.   
  
It's Enid, again.  
  
 She answers the call, expecting her bubbly voice stating that she's off work and waiting for her to come to the flat. Yet, she's welcomed to a voice with a low tone, "Where are you? I thought you'd be home by now."   
  
 Mikaela was caught off by this until she checked the time. It was hours later into the day and it was almost five. On the whim, she lies, "Got caught in traffic. Don't worry, I'm almost there!"   
  
Honestly, she had no idea where she was besides being lost and sidetracked from the main roads.   
  
Enid's going to freak out.   
  
 Though, the woman on the other line beamed with a simple, "Oh? Didn't have any traffic come my way."   
  
"Car broke down and I had to get it checked out! Haha, yeah!"   
  
_Awfully transparent of you._   
  
 For a moment, the voice that rang in her head could've been mistaken for her own qualms of anxiety. At the same time, however, it was serene, soothing.   
  
Almost like her aunt's.   
  
 She shook it off and drove out, adjusting her visor mirror to make sure she didn't hit anything. As doing so, a figure hovered in the bushes, staring at her with their amber yellow eyes. Eyes that peered into her soul the more she kept looking at them at that specific angle.   
  
 Again, the brunette could've shrugged it off and got back on the main roads, yet she just couldn't. Fear held a chokehold grasp around her neck the more she stared into the visors, every ounce in her body becoming stiff and petrified with fright. The person didn't come out of the shadows to approach her or anything—they just _stared_ with the infallible intimidation in the glint of their eyes.   
  
"I'm gonna…call you right back," she rasps out and hung up the phone.   
  
 Something reflective shined off the surface of whatever the person held, casting them back further into the bushes. Those golden ambers were the only thing that was distinctive.   
  
It scared her, yet she had to get out of there.   
  
 Her foot slammed on the gas, the engine roaring throughout the forest as she high trailed out of the canal sector. Taking a final glance back at the visors, her gaze noticed those marigold eyes were gone. It didn't matter at this point, though. _She's tired_. 

 

“I just hope I get some sleep,” she states as blending in with traffic


	2. Crackin' Cream Sodas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to a fellow friend of the new halfling server: Enid Paradine
> 
> Theater kids bingewatch Castlevania while the inevitable gleams afar.  
> Oh, and weird prophetic dreams take place here. Haha!

 Mikaela was on the freeway, now turning off the bridge into an avenue lane. It was a street that lead into a village of houses, ranging from mobile homes to flats. The trees swayed  with the evening wind as the remaining bit of orange sunlight peered through the oaky, green leaves.

 

 She specifically looked for a house painted in red with a purple on its side. Once noticing the black car that was parked in the driveway, she eventually pulls in.

 

 The brunette rushes up to the door after getting out with her stuff. Once, twice, thrice she knocks before the light thumping of footsteps came closer to the door. 

 

"Hold a moment!", the woman on the other side of the door shouts. "I'm trying to put on my pants, dammit!"

 

"Why though? I'm your  _ roommate _ ." 

 

 The grunts that were muffled then stopped. The clicks of locks being unlocked were heard and, finally, the door opens to a blonde pouting.

 

"Jus' because we're under the same room doesn't mean I'm comfortable without 'em." 

 

Mikaela scoffs as trudging through the doorway, "Weird, but alright." 

 

 The door is then closed upon her entry. She glances back at the blonde—who was wearing red shorts and a black tee in comparison to her flowery, flowy top and blue jeans—with sparked curiosity as she sat down on the futon couch. "So, this  _ thing _ you mentioned over the phone," the brunette began, "what was it?" 

 

Like that, Enid's fawny complexion beamed with a giddy smile. "You remember that I always wanted to try out theater?" 

 

 Mikaela's neutral frown was tugged at into a wry smile as a response. She nods and the blonde continues. "Guess who's gonna audition for a role for  _ Macbeth _ at the town's theater!" 

 

For a moment, the brunette feigned confusion, "Rylee? Rylee could make for a good Banquo." 

 

"No, you nerd. It's a-me, Enid!"

 

 The confusion twisted into squealing joy as the blonde announced her involvement in the theater. Mikaela embraced the other with a tight hug, a smile tugged at her lips like no other since yesterday. Everything was great, like it all was before today. 

 

That is, until Enid pulls away from the tight hug, plopping down on the smooth cloth couch. "How was ya day? I said mine, now it's yo' turn." 

 

 A lump crept into the brunette's mouth as the news of her aunt, well,  _ dying at the hands of somebody _ traced throughout her mind. Her eyebrows furrowed in response as the familiar, fiery twinge in her eyes overwhelmed her. A deep breath in, a long one out. 

 

"Allergies been a bitch so I had to go to the doctor," she states on the whim. 

 

 Lying was a specialty that was both graceful and turbulent. If told to the wrong person, their narrowed eyes of confusion and shattered trust would taunt her. However—"The doc, huh?", Enid does an upward nod, silver blue eyes widened in interest. "What else?" 

 

Another lie was pulled from the mind basket, "Had t'get the car fixed. Oil was low." 

 

 A quirked dark blonde eyebrow was shot at the woman. "Low oil? I'm quite sure you didn't go over the mileage to get a change. Ya never know, I guess." She shrugged in response—thank Heavens she took it. A low sigh fell from her chest; Mikaela didn't know she held her breath for that long. Immovable and eyes locked into those icy blues. 

 

What was a gray speckle in her narrowed vision widened in excitement. "Hey, Mills." 

 

"We agreed to  _ never _ call me that—" 

 

"Wanna watch  _ Castlevania _ ?", a grin of mischief sprawled itself in her fawn and speckled face. 

 

 Ah, yes,  _ Castlevania _ . Mikaela herself never got into it as a game, but the adaption? It peaked more than her interest—she needed to see it. Besides the casual references that both Rylee and Enid tossed around in a game of inside joke tennis, each day passed by when she didn't see it. Somewhere in her chaotic piece of her subconscious, she wanted to watch it. 

 

But yeah, she nods. "Duh, man. Turn on Netflix." 

 

 "Imma warn ya, kinda gruesome from what I've heard," the blonde states in a low whisper, as if gossiping one of her coworkers deepest secret. "Gruesome? I can handle gruesome  _ any _ day!" 

 

Last time that happened, she watched  _ Raw _ as a dare from the hardcore horror fanatic blonde. 

 

Mikaela vowed to never eat burritos after that--especially when it ended up all over her blankets.

 

 Enid could only scoff, shake her head as it lowered, and exchange a wry smile. "It has good storyyyy!", she whine. Her and the brunette were different in show watching; Millie, an analyzer—Enid, the casual watcher. Regardless of their differences, they stuck together like glue. 

 

"Fine, nerd," the blonde gave in. "But if you lurch forward, you have to clean it up."

 

 An imitation gag followed at her response. Enid reaches out for the remote that sat atop the black coffee table. The screen of the T.V. flickered on as the button was pressed; the screen itself popped up several apps that would be in use at that time before Enid clicked over to Netflix. The lights were dimmed as the blonde walked over to the lights, flicking them down as she browsed through selections upon selections of genres. 

 

 Mikaela felt her eyes becoming weighed over time--was it that late already? Her hand searched through the purse that sat beside her while sinking into the crevice of the couch. She pulled out the phone, pressing the power button--the screen flashed with the clock saying 7:46pm. 

 

Time kept getting faster with each tick to her. It was as if she was in a different setting, a different plane. 

 

 Soon, the images of the pink and orange umbrella rushed through her mind. She could’ve told Enid about how she got one of her aunt’s umbrellas from an abandoned canal sector. Yet, hesitation bloomed as thinking of the possible scenario that the businesswoman would mark her as crazy.

 

However, it didn’t take long for the brunette to notice a dim, golden glow brimming from the backseat of her car in the window. 

 

 Her lips pursed into a line of concern, then furrowed eyebrows quirked in confusion.  _ Why _ would something like that be glowing out of the blue? More concern and confusion swirled in a concoction that she’d surely wouldn’t take into consideration. 

 

_ Okay, okay. Just watch the series to get your mind off of what happened today. _

 

_ Castlevania _ didn’t help a sliver bit.

  
  


**_\---_ **

  
  


_  There awaited several gleaming stones and gems upon pillars circling her clockwise. It was an abyss of nothingness but the star dotted sky above and the smear of sea green borealis. Each stone representing whatever underneath if she were to choose any out of the thirteen laid out for her. Some lead to possibilities beyond, while others lead to a demise of her or someone else.  _

 

_ She couldn’t understand why she was here --or more importantly, who brought her here. _

 

_ Yet there she was, amongst the midnight blue abyss. _

 

_  Without thinking a bit, she trots over to the sapphire blue gemstone in its raw state. Jagged points sticking out like daggers, its base a dusty white. Beyond this choice, her eyes blanked to a dull emerald green, index finger grazing upon the tip of the dagger-like tip. The finger pressed into the mineral, blood dripping down the gleaming stone.  _

 

_ Her consciousness regained control once more--only at a price.  _

 

_  The brunette retracted her hand from the stone that pricked her finger, eyes scanning the entire alit abyss. Right, left, up, down, nothing seemed to be amiss in the abyss.  _

 

_ That is, until she saw a sprawled out corpse lain amongst the black flooring.  _

 

_  The corpse was a pale copper, with crimson staining the side of their mouth. A pool of red with rivulets of a dark violet circled around the said body. Bile rose to the brunette’s mouth as she saw it, approaching slowly with a hand clasped around her mouth.  _

 

_ It was Aunt Marie-Jose.  _

 

_ Neck twisted, blood drained from her body.  _

 

_ She was wearing her sapphire embedded necklace, a gift from the niece. _

 

_  The niece herself felt more bile rushing up to her mouth from her stomach, yet swallowed it all down. Her breath picked up paces, heaving almost. The twinge of tears pricked at her eyes once more.  _

 

_ “I-I’m sorry. I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry--” _

 

_  Yet, those sorries didn't calm her down. With each sorry, tears kept tracing down her flushed cheeks. Choked sobs were all that echoed throughout the vacant abyss. _

 

_  At this moment, the grieving brunette didn't hear the skittles and scattering of something within the shadows. Wisps of shadows swarmed around her in a swirling frenzy—  _

 

_  Until willowy hands were formed and soon choked her. The tangible mist squeezed at her neck, hoping to crack something before she passes out from straggling breaths. With each heave and gasp for air, those hands tightened.  _

 

_ Failure.  _

 

_ She was failure incarnate.  _

 

_ This is how she- this is how she- she would die. _

 

**_\---_ **

  
  


A rush of air surged through her lungs.

 

 By then, Mikaela woke to two things: the scent of baked blueberries and popcorn pellets spilled onto the carpet. 

 

What a fucking dream that was.


	3. Voyage of Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikaela's greentext:   
> > go into work when your aunt is dead + a hurricane warning is issued through ur town   
> > have one customer bug you look like a MLM businessman   
> > another customer look like the combo cosplay of a samurai weeb   
> > said samurai weeb is actually my assassin   
> > oh im a prophecy child   
> > lifeisgreat.png

It was three in the morning.

 

 Popcorn pellets were spilled over the laminated flooring—Mikaela doesn't remember having popcorn when binge watching. She shifts herself up with a low grunt in her mouth. Despite her blurry vision from just waking up, she could see that there was a ray of yellow light coming from the kitchen.

 

Not only the light lead her in, but also the sweet scent of freshly baked blueberry muffin.

 

 Wait, _muffins_? Made by Enid? It was more likely than she thought; the blonde was a penchant offender of cooking, burning the food most of the time. Sometimes even charring the skillets or pots.

 

The thought of the blonde being able to bake something without burning it--let alone _start a fire_ \--was as uncanny as uncanny could be.

 

 Mikaela entered the kitchen, hit with the wafting smell of muffins being pulled out from the oven. Soon the blonde perked up, pan decorated with plump muffins emitting a stem from the oven.

 

"You're up quite early," Enid spoke while taking off oven mittens.

 

"Me, being up this early?", the brunette scoffed. "I could ask the same thing. Why are you makin' muffins?"

 

The blonde deadpanned as reaching out for a cooled off muffin, "My life spiraled out of control."

 

 For a moment, a chuckle erupted from her lips as hearing the harsh truth of a response. The blonde often times did things when she had trouble sleeping, which was becoming a frequent occurrence. "Your life, out of control?", she blurts out before her hands clasped at her mouth.

 

No, nope, nuh-uh. Can't let Enid know about the umbrella and _that_.

 

"Yeah? You wanna talk about it?" She asks through mouthful of blueberry muffin.

 

 The brunette winced at the sudden flash coursing through her mind of that nightmare; mangled bodies and blood on that blank slate of a floor would be hammered into her mind. She shook off the feeling, exchanging a wavering laugh in response. "Nah, not really."

 

"You sure? Or do you need a muffin to cheer you up?"

 

 It was three in the morning, almost four—the duo had work later in the day. But hey, why not take a bite? Nimble, sepia hands inked with rose pink and royal violet on her nails swiped a muffin from the cooking sheet. She nibbled into the bread, expecting to taste something bitter as salt.

 

Except no, nothing out of the ordinary happened in those little bites.

 

In fact, it was blueberry bakery heaven.

 

 She took a few more bites with eagerness, looking back at the half eaten muffin and Enid herself, leaning against the marble countertop. “Are you some sort of _witch_?”, the brunette questioned with gleeful shock in her eyes. In cocky response, the blonde had a teasing grin on her lips, “Maybe, maybe not. Take your choices!”

 

After that, Mikaela shook her head. “Let me get something to drink and I’ll be back to sleep.”

 

“Millie,” the other called out to her, “it’s, like, four now.”

 

 Behind the fridge door, she perked her head up and cocked an eyebrow at the other. “Really? I could, oh, I dunno, rewatch _Castlevania_?”

 

 With a glance at the black screen of the flat surface T.V., she considered either watching the series again until the crack of dawn or actually go back to sleep. For a moment, she could have chosen the former--

 

“Hey, you good? I’m pretty sure I didn’t add in anything fishy in ‘ere.” Enid would chuckle at her unintentioned pun; even if she _did_ add in a slice of anchovies, that wasn’t the problem.

 

The umbrella found in the canals? Yeah, that _thing_ was glowing..

 

 Her face contorted into one of absolute confusion, squinted eyes and furrowed eyebrows. After being asked out of concern, she shook her head in response. “Nah, it ain’t that,” she implies, grabbing the middle part of the water bottle inside the fridge. Emerald eyes scrutinized the glow in the dark umbrella even as cracking open the bottle. “Just...thought of something bad,” she waves off with a white lie.

 

“Oh, worm? What is it?”

 

“In a big ass universe where _anything_ can happen, do you think mayo is substituted as cum and same vice versa?”

 

 Enid’s face retracted into her neck in utmost disgust. A small _‘ew’_ was all that spout out. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be in the situation where I’m, uh, giving a blowjow and the fucker sprouts out spicy fucking mayo all over my face.”

 

“Okay,” started off the brunette after taking a long swig of water, “how ‘bout this? Mustard or nacho cheese substituted as pee--”  
  
“ _OKAY THAT’S IT. GOOD NIGHT, MIKAELA!_ ”

 

 An extended out index finger pointed at the dimmed hallway, though Mikaela could’ve misunderstood it as pointing to the couch in the living room. With loud cackling, she dismissed herself with the water bottle in hand and closing the fridge door.

 

While halfway through the hallway and into her room, the disembodied voice mused, “Okay, okay, hear me out: ketchup as bl--”

 

“ _TO SLEEP, OR I WILL EAT YOUR SOCKS._ ”

 

 Again, another laugh echoed throughout the hallway after Mikaela enters into her room. The blonde simply rolled her eyes at the thought of swapping condiments to, you know, bodily fluids. A shuddered followed in response at the said things all the while she stashed away the remaining muffins in a plastic container. After finishing that, she flicks the light switch downward and walking out of the dim kitchen.

 

Two things she noticed with a swift glance at the windows--that it was the crack of dawn with bland, blue skies peering through.

 

And the gleam of the umbrella emitting from the rear seat of Mikaela’s car.

 

 She knew what that glow meant, what it signifies, and importantly, _who_ it belongs to. Or more specifically, who it _belonged_ to. A flash of horror struck her as realizing that significant, golden glow and its implicit message.

 

Devastation twisted in her gut.

 

**_\---_ **

 

 Normally, the day would kickoff with the beaming sun that hung above the sky. The sun itself was an explemory thing for some to look forward to the day with positivity rather than bleak drabbiness.

 

But _oh boy_ , was it pouring harder than in years before.

 

 A severe thunderstorm was issued throughout half of the counties in Gardenia; counties that were near heavy bay areas would be afflicted worst. Some choose to stay home in fear of it being a hurricane ravaging through the counties, others checked in despite the costly weathering.

 

One of them with a soul braver than a marine was the brunette baker.

 

 The bell above her rung its dulled ring as she pushes in the unlocked doors to the cafe. As expected of the downpour outside and crackling thunderbolts that rumbled the earth below, nobody was there. Not a single soul waiting in booths or high-raised stools nearby the parlor bar. She then picks out a black hair band that was stashed in her apron pocket, wringing in all the coily curls of hair into a messy bun. Then, she sighs, “Another day, I guess.”

 

 A few hours would pass by slowly, time dragging its blister etched feet through mud. The brunette drummed the granite countertop while waiting in the hi-stand seat. She leans back a bit and slouches, scrolling through her phone and whatnot.

 

A sigh falls out of her mouth.

 

 She could have very well stayed at home and catch up on watching that one new series that Enid recommended multiple times before _Castlevania_ became a new infatuation with her. But no, she went in under her own accord despite the internal hurt throbbing in her chest.

 

 Even on rainy days, Aunt M-Jay would come in and order a cup of French roast, cream coffee. Maybe even add in a strawberry cake. Some, if not most, of the staff at the time would often ask _how and why_ she was out and about in the treacherous weather that seemed to vary on levels of intensity. Her response was on a whim, with it being something along the lines of, _“God themselves above cries for every misfortune that happens to a being of purity. I want to make them happy with the offerings I have.”_

 

 Tears pricked at her eyes, stinging with its fiery emotions of grievance. She sniffled a bit while more tears kept coming and trailing down her cheeks.

 

_Why? Why did she leave the moment after my birthday?_

 

_DING!_

 

 Reality washed over her and brought her back to the rain pouring over the glass doors. A person walked in with a tailored, black business jacket drenched in rain droplets. Alongside the drench, their hair that was slicked back drooped with droplets dripping onto the floor. Mikaela perks up in response, stashing her phone away in the front pockets of the green apron wrapped around her waist.

 

“Hello! And welcome to _Sweets ‘n Stuff_! What would you like to order, sir?”

 

 The preppiness that was instilled in her voice made her wince a bit--but what made her recoil into her neck was that she squeaked a bit. _Oh god, why. Why do I have this sort of voice? Why did I even speak at all?? Holy FUCK._ Multiple thoughts traced and zipped through her mind at what this stranger of a man that was wet all over from the rain outside thought of her.

 

And importantly, she begged to the Gods above to take her soul away if he saw her tearing up and on the verge of sobbing.

 

 Squeezing the saturated water out of his blond hair over the trash can, he responds with slight gruffiness in his voice--”Do you know a woman that goes by Marie-Jay?”

 

Her vocal chords snapped shut.

 

Yet she responds with a tight nod.

 

 If these were the first stages of grief kicking in, it would be bile rising anger. She kept back the enraged beast inside her, breathing slowly as she waited for the response of the businessman. “Have you, by any chance, seen her?”

 

She shook her head. Her throat was at the verge of yelling, sobbing, _screaming_ \--

 

 “Oh, my apologies then,” he slicks back the light cream locks that were drooping over his eyes. “I never knew that she worked here. Anyways, I’d like black roast coffee and devil cake.”

 

“C-coming right up--”

 

“Huh, and I thought you didn’t speak,” the blond teases. “You have quite the quiet voice.”

 

 “Thanks. I know,” the brunette unintentionally spits back with a green glower in her tear ridden eyes. She hops off the high stool and to the bar parlor, cutting a slice of chocolate cake.

 

Why is she breathing heavy? Why is she still crying?

 

 The fact that she’s crying in front of a stranger, who’s probably associated with a pyramid scheme, made her want to shatter through the plastic that encased the sweets and bakery of loaves and croissants. Another breath was taken in as rising up from the tray and casing the cake slice in.

 

“Do you have allergies, ma’am?” The man himself had a condescending tone in his voice with a shiteating grin on his face.

 

Oh **_boy_ **, what’d she would do to punch this man at the cost of her job.

 

 He saw tears dripping from her chin as she walked over to the coffee grinder sitting on another, albeit dusted in flour, marble countertop. The fact that the blond had the guts to laugh at someone experiencing grief of that to a scalding coffee cup was as appalling so. Another deep breath was taken in and slowly, breathed out. She poured the pot of black, roast coffee into a styrofoam mug.

 

“Here are _both_ of your orders. It’ll be 7.99,” the brunette states with a wince in her eyes.

 

“7.99? Thought that’d be higher considering this bakery’s location--”

 

 “Sir, _please_ pay for your order--”, her hands shoved both the plastic container with the cake and styrofoam coffee mug to the man, “-- _now_.”

 

 As expected from this twat of a pyramid scheme man, he cocked his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”, he’d mused with the amusement in the brunette’s swelling rage. Any moment now, that rage being chained to the innermost depths of her subconscious escaped and was about to resurface to her vocal chords.

 

 She bit the inside of her cheek, breathed more slowly and exhaled as so. Her hands became shaky at the rush of burning adrenaline coursing through her veins. The twinge of boiling bile rose to her croaked up throat.

 

“Sir, please. I don’t want to risk getting fired,” she states instead.

 

 A twenty surfaced from the inner coat pockets of his business jacket. He held the edge of the green, cash paper between his index and middle finger, wiggling it in the air. “Come and get it, I’m sure that there’s _no one_ around to accompany you in your devastation. Is there?”

 

She snatches the dollar from the fingers.

 

 Swift, light bronze hands rummaged through the cash register, picking up coins and remaining cash left unused by the purchase. Slamming the register close, she hands back the leftover change of $12.01. She bit on her tongue to keep hinge of a poisoned statement of, _“You really don’t deserve this  change, but I’m not willing to go to jail for an offense that fucking petty.”_

 

As if reading through her mind, he says, “Keep the change, _darling_ \--”

 

“If _I_ ever _see_ you again, I will rip open your mouth and pull out that dumbass tongue of yours.”

 

 Mikaela’s anger didn’t falter at the statement of thinking out loud was conceived. Normally, any _humane_ person would be terrified at the statement of a mild-mannered baker and part-time cashier, but this _heathen of a man_ didn’t crack with the entitled, snobby demeanor that he had since coming in.

 

Instead, that shit eating grin grew _wider_.

 

“Maybe we’ll see each other again in another dimension,” the snide in the teasing remark received a strangled growl from the cashier, “but we’ll definitely make amends, won’t we?”

 

With steely heeding and voice lowered and deliberate, she commands, “Get out. _Now_.”

 

_Ding!_

 

 Rylee was here at long last! Unruly, unkempt dark blonde hair popped over at the entrance, herself tying a blue apron around her waist. She shook out the rain droplets that got in her hair and placed the umbrella in its rack. “ _Shoot!_ Sorry for bein’ late, Mimi.”

 

 “Don’t call me that,” a placid smile twist at the corners of her mouth. The nickname was jokingly used throughout their high school years, specifically when Rylee constantly teased her with it.

 

“ _Mimi_? What an adorable nickn--”

 

“I _will_ shove all your shoes and jackets into a pile of manure,” she hisses at the customer.

 

 Why was he still here, that she didn’t know--and didn’t _want_  to know, yet he left with the coffee and devil food cake in hand, grabbing the umbrella on the side of the pink counterpart. Relief breathed onto her as the rude as _fucking hell_ of a blond left the premise, fading into a blur in the rain. “You good, man?”, the blonde asks in concern.

 

“Yeah, just- just- uhm.”

 

Tears then came out of the hinged dam of concealed emotions. She covers her face with her hands over the counter.

 

 This was awkward as fuck for the brunette, but with the approaching shuffling of Converses coming near to her, she cried even hard. Sobs were croaked out when the light touch of a hand rubbed her back in reassurance.

 

“Let it all out, dude. It’s aight,” the blonde sighs out in a whisper.

 

 Pity was the griever’s weakness and surely enough, Mikaela didn’t want it. She would rather go home in the hostile thunderstorm than be here. Anything and _anywhere_ but here.

 

 Minutes passed after the brunette sniffled once more with several tissues littered atop the cashier placed countertop. The once shining emerald green eyes were puffy and tinted in red. “Are you alright now?”, asks the part-time worker.

 

With a nod, she shakily implies, “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be fine for now. It’s just--”

 

“It takes balls of adamantium  to come back to work after hearing about M-Jay dying”

 

A weak laugh was the other’s response, “Don’t _you_ start now!”

 

“Come _on_ , it really does! Told Enid ‘bout it and she just replies with a picture of a cat screaming ‘No!’.”

 

 More laughs, albeit in the same tone of sobbing, came out from the brunette. Even with tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes, she could still laugh after all. A frown that was once ridden with sobbing twisted upright into a smile.

 

“I’ll make some muffins if you’d like.”

 

“Thanks man,” she says as pulling herself upright in the high stool. She stretched a bit afterwards.

 

**_\---_ **

 

 The rain faltered up a bit, now only sprinkling down as a drizzle with bolts zigzagging through the grey sky and thundering drumming the earth. Traffic became more dense outside despite the clock nearing her closing shift of two o’clock. Sleepiness overrode her senses while playing with the register. Her hand that her head rested upon pricked with numbness as hearing the ding from the bell that hovered above the doors.

 

It was _someone_. Someone that she didn’t know, toting about with a sword--possibly a katana.

 

 Alertness flooded in as her eyes shot open, blinking a few times in reassurance that this was a dream. Nope--pure, solid reality. A solid reality where _some_ motherfucker walks in with a _katana_.

 

Oh _boy_ was she going to have a fun time telling this story to Enid.

 

 Lightheadedness took suit as she rose and stretched herself out in the high top stool. Rylee, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, kneading dough for danishes--while listening to _What’s Up Danger_ on full blast with her portable speaker. The next customer of the day approaches her slowly, step after step with leather rubbing and making slight streaks on the cream colored marble flooring.

 

 Eyes amber and yellow as a full moon; midnight blue hair slicked and pulled back into a ponytail of swishing hair with each stride they took. Their mouth was thinned into a firm frown that wouldn’t falter anytime soon as approaching the cash register.

 

 For a moment, Mikaela had thought it was a mere cosplayer passing by (wait, _why_ would there be a con around her area, let alone in the state?), but their eyes told a different story with multiple contexts yet to be unveiled. Half lidded amber eyes stared at the pastel orange menus hanging from above by a rail with hooks wrapping around it. Clearing her throat, the brunette plasters a smile--albeit, a nervous one--for the customer, “Hello, and welcome to   _Sweets ‘n Stuff_! What would you like to order?”

 

As fast as a fly zipping by, they respond curtly, “You have the _umbrella_. Do you or do you not?”

 

Everything blanks out then.

 

 A wavering smile that was in the middle of bursting out in laughter or screaming for help, a cocked eyebrow from the katana wielder made it more troublesome. “I-I don’t know what you mean by that….sir?”

 

“You do. I can _sense_ it here, somewhere.”

 

 Okay, so the dude is not only some sort of neckbeard but a wacko. Got it.

 

 “Sir, I don't have _whatever_ you are referring to. Just do an order and please leave,” she groans out with a hand at her head. At this growing rate, she was on her way to headache hell.

 

 Yet the man took a step towards her, making the distance between them unbearable--save for the countertop splitting them up.

 

“You _do_.”

 

“I do _not_ ! Now please, order something or just _leave_!”

 

 Within those shouting words, her chest fluttered with an iridescent, yellow glow. The brunette took notice of such, clutching her top to hide the sudden glow on her chest. “I-I can e-explain--”

 

 Amber yellow eyes stared her down for a moment, one in shock and the next with furrowed eyebrows that basically said _I knew so_. A short laugh of nervousness fell from her lips while the gleaming light from her chest dimmed to normal.

 

“Haha, well,” she clears her throat, “ _that_ was something.”

 

 The tip of a katana was drawn out into the fresh opening, a blade sharp as a pinprick needle scraping against her nose. A quiet yelp follows from the light scrape that drew out a droplet of blood unto the counter below. “Something indeed,” the fellow in midnight blue muses. “If we ever see each other once more again, the fate of survival won’t leave you with mercy.”

 

Then, poof.

 

No, literally. He poofed out of existence in a flurry of black and dark mulberry fogginess.

 

 Once again, the spur of blood rushing to her head was enough to make Mikaela dizzy, but not close to fainting outright on the floor. Blood still dribbled onto the countertop from her nose, so she reaches out for a few napkins and rushed to the further back where stocks of paper towels and sink waited for her.

 

 Once she came back to the front, Rylee made her way to the front as well while humming another song in her throat.

 

“‘Scuuuuse me, Ry! Spilled some tea on the floor and now I pricked my finger!”, she states while swerving to the side with damp paper towels in hand.

 

“Spilled somethin’? I thought you were known to be careful with shit like tha--”

 

“ _Not the time, Rylee_ ,” Mikaela growled outright at her when wiping the wound from her nose.

 

 All the dirty blonde encased in flour could do was nod and walk back to the kitchen. A sigh fell from her once more as she walks back to the parlor bar, red blotches staining granite.

 

“God, what’s _happening_ to _me_?”, she hissed out while swiping the blood off the countertop.

 

**_\---_ **

 

“ _Selpheus_ , you had her at sword-point! What made you to spare her?”

 

 Somewhere in the world below, nether regions right, a cavern dotted with minerals of all kinds--amethyst, sapphire, rubies to ore, phosphyllite, and quartzes of all sorts--jutted from above and below the ground. The cave itself was black as obsidian throughout and clear azure waters filled craters that were scattered about in the vast gem cove.

 

Dark yellow eyes closed in response to the scowling, “You know how I am with killing, _father_.”

 

 Vermillion red eyes rolled at the response, thinking to dismiss such a flimsy excuse of sparing the halfling in question. _However_ , the Dark Overlord took into consideration that said excuse for a moment.

 

“Did you… _spare_ her, Selph?”

 

The assassin nods, eyes slowly shifting their gaze to the cluster of mixed crystals to his right.

 

“Surprising to know that you would do such a thing!”, the father cackles off the disappointment from his shoulders. “The worse thing prey can be _spared_ prey, not knowing their untimely death!”

 

 Before the father went into his tangent, Selph could only be brought to a question with many answers that were unlikely in his favor. “Why?”, he began.

 

“Why what?”, the other breaths out, stopping the tangent. A cocked eyebrow was shot the son’s way.

 

 “ _Why_ are you doing this? For what gain? Or for what vainful glory?” Questions were shot out from his mouth in a flurry of bullets, each one ricocheting off the walls of hesitation. One of them would soon be ricocheted into the Dark Overlord--

 

“Because,” his own prideful glory faltered into one of a sorrowful glimpse, “it’s for your mother, Selpheus. I...I told her I would avenge her regardless of the consequences, the backlash.”

 

 The assassin himself heard brief, vague mentions from so many people, so many people that he had on the bounty, that would mention her from their last gasp of breath and life. At first, he didn’t know why or how they knew of a woman absent from his life; but overtime, the reasons of them knowing _why_ Faustus--no, _Mephistopheles_ \--targeted them became painfully apparent.

 

For a moment, he felt the fiery pain of tears crept on him. He blinked a few times and wiped them away with his hand.

 

“Your mother was a lovely person, Selph. I--I just wish you could’ve seen her yourself.”

 

“But...but father, you know how I am with killing others,” the son spoke softly now, “since...since _Saliphone_ \--”‍‍‍

 

“It’s okay, Selph,” Mephisto added. “I’ll take things into my own hands now.”

 

 In that moment, the surge of hesitation flowed through his veins, wanting out from his mouth. And so it did, an arm stretched out in response to yield, “Father, _please_ , you don’t need to!”

 

 “And why, do tell me to the Twelve Realms above and below, _why I don’t need to_.” In that distilled moment, Mephisto’s voice lowered from what once of cocky flamboyance to one that rumbled the realms above with its eldritch, low growl. Light red eyes were now narrowed in frustration at the other, patience a thread away from snapping.

 

“Because I’ll…”, he took a swallow and breathed out, “I’ll do it.”

 

 A smile bequeathed itself unto the father’s lips in a curl between malicious and glad, “Knew you would come to your senses, son. You wouldn’t want _karma_ to do it otherwise.”

 

“I...I know,” he sighs, looking down at the jagged rocks of a floor below.

 

He was right, however. Karma would be merciless to the fledgling halfling.

 

And he didn’t want that to be the fate of the new Server.


	4. Ich Liebe Dich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A departure that's yet to make its way back—however, at a cost.

As soon as those events of unruly awkwardness came to a close with the shift nearing its end, the pocket sewn into the apron lit up and vibrated.

 

It was a message; a message from the intern.

 

 While the brunette packed up her stuff with a purse on the table that was being stuffed with the green apron, she pulls out the phone from the pocket before stashing it. The screen lit up with two things: a music app that wasn’t closed properly and a green notification bubble that read:

 

**[so when were you gonna tell me that marie jay died? haha]**

 

 That little ‘haha’ at the end meant much more than what met the eyes. The blonde had several unhealthy coping mechanism, one being that she laughed and joked when in distress--this was one of those times. Mikaela was surprised to notice that it wasn't a stretch of it.

 

 A grey bubble popped up then and there every few seconds. This was the embodiment of anxiety pooling upward to her throat, tightening it. 

 

A green bubble pops up again:

**[millie, i know youre there and read the messages. were you going to tell me sooner or not?]**

 

She hesitated for a second then a moment. 

 

 Before that little gray bubble of buffering plopped in once more, her thumbs went rampant on the keyboard, typing away aimlessly.

 

**[i didnt,,,want to overshadow the fact that you got the role in macbeth, man]**

 

**[so what? i knew something was up when you came in with snot all over that apron from yesterday]**

 

**[enid. i dont feel like talking rn]**

 

**[shit. sorry man.]**

**[i. uhm. got it from rylee this morning when you came into work and some asshole made you mad if i recall correctly]**

 

**_\---_ **

 

 On the other end of the messages exchanged, the blonde intern was a crying, babbling mess with wads of snot and tear stained tissues piled all around her desk. Tears kept streaming down with bitter warmth while pale, silver eyes bore at the messages that were sent to the baker.

 

“ _ Shit _ ...not again,” she mutters to herself despite accumulated mucus slurring it. 

 

A message then pops in:

**[that fuckwad gave me a twenty and told me to keep the change. i swear if i see him again i will eat all of his socks and stuff chocolate pudding in his tomatoes]**

 

 Enid would be lying to herself if that didn’t get a chuckle out of her. What once swarmed and choked her with feelings of regret and a chunk of deprecation, then came in a bittersweet feeling of knowing that she’s alive. That Mikaela was still breathing after all of this went down the hill and snowballed into a mess.

 

**[like motherfucker please!! trying to get a rise out of me when i knew damn well he was gonna throw me a pyramid scheme bone out from his blonde scummy ass]**

 

**[christ, dude! that was only one customer throughout the day, probably. is it still raining over there?]**

**[crap hold on, got a message comin in]**

 

**[nid, its like. 2019. this isnt the phone app]**

 

It was too late at this point, the blonde switched from the texts from Mikaela to a text from a familiar somebody. With the lovely contact name of  _ “probably with scientology” _ , the blonde could merely groan in response to knowing who it was.

 

A supervisor of another department over--sales, she believed--Vincent Gahn.

 

Or better known as Remmus for her.

 

[Ugh, Selentia! that place you recommended me? Absolutely amazing! I had no idea that their devil food cake was better than the service I got!]

 

[remmus, the hell did you do.]

 

[What? I didn’t do anything!]

 

[had you not been the server of fire and vigor, id call you off as the server of pathological lying]

 

 Remmus was one of many things besides the literal God of fire and power. He was annoyance incarnate, pushing buttons of those patient enough to endure the sheer ridiculousness that he brought along. For someone as prominent as he beyond Middle Earth, he’s quite the gnat for others.

 

And that vex for the Fire Server was kindled in the blonde. 

 

 She sighs in response as swiping off the tissues that piled into a mini mountain on her desk. Sanitizer and a few tissues were placed on the surface and wiped over the snotty tissue mountain base. 

 

Another text pinged off.

 

And again.

 

And  _ again- _

 

 The blonde managed to ignore the first ten accumulation of texts spammed in her direct messages, but it became consistent and without pause. Ten became fifteen; fifteen became thirty; thirty overwhelmed itself to fifty-nine. There was a brief pause in the messages that drowned Enid in anxiety-

 

_ He fucking wouldn’t, the bastard! _

 

 Before the first note of her ringtone played any further--a song well-known to some skeleton game character--she continuously presses the cancel button. Thankfully that ringtone of internet culture didn’t carry on to its third note, which half of the people in nearby cubby spaces would already know what it’d be.

 

She opens the messenger app right at the second he was going to call again:

 

[do you WANT me to get fired for having my ringtone as megalovania for your annoying piece of ass???]

 

[Oh I don’t know, do I?]

 

[IM ASKING YOU THAT!!!! god why did you EVER suggest me this job as an intern??]

 

[So you can maintain a better lifestyle than before. You were a hermit then, weren’t you?]

 

 As annoying and persistent in pissing others off, he  _ knew  _ what made them tick, what made them break, what made them  _ weak _ . With a low scoff-hiss, her eyes rolled before responding back. 

 

[just because its true doesnt give you the right to say it.]

 

[Huh. Never thought of it that way.]

[And never will. You’re promoted to sales, fyi.]

 

And blank!

 

 Her eyes went blank while staring at the tiny screen of a phone that was in her hands, both in joy and disbelief. Joy for the supervisor to shut up finally, disbelief of her knowing that she’s going to be working with the bastard that fueled spite.

 

That joy would be simmered out once the gray bubble clocks in--

 

[Before I go to a meeting, I’ve...noticed something about that cashier from yesterday.]

 

[rylee? they usually run the cashier,,]

 

[No, it wasn’t that Rylee girl with the emo hairdo and dye. It was a girl with curly hair pulled to a makeshift bun, if memory serves me well.]

[Never had the chance to get her name--such a violent powerhouse of vigor and bloodlust in that girl--but she did know Mjrana!]

 

[,,,,,,did you really piss off mikaela when her aunt died. you know, mJRANA!!! YOU DAMN BASTARD IM GOING TO BREAK YOUR KNEECAPS]

 

[You’re too comfortable with threatening me, Selentia. There’s a reason why I’m promoting you so.]

[Anyways, meeting is about to start. Good day!]

 

 Finally, a sigh of relief. She didn’t even notice that her  breath was encased in her lungs still after Remmus concluded that conversation for now. 

 

But even then, thoughts from that convo began to arise.

 

 Arising in theories of Mikaela possibly wielding the Scassore; theories that taunted her so while she organized files in cabinets and doing typical internship stuff. Once it was shook off, but it stuck to the nape of her neck like glue. 

 

Then, memory gave her backlash.

 

_ The glowing parasol that was in the back of her seat wasn’t a mere illusion that night, was it? _

 

It wasn’t--and that was something of a harsh reality she grew to accept.

 

**_\---_ **

 

So, a week passes by.

 

 A week of silence, of uneventfulness that dulled the colors and aura of Gardenia’s metro. Had it not been so populous with its commute and business skyscrapers, it’d been classified as a fog encircled abandoned city.

 

 The rain lifted ever so slightly as time came along; severe floods and house collapses near bay and bodies of waters were rampant throughout western and northwestern provinces. It was a bittersweet, soft drizzle with grey clouds not clearing out anytime soon.

 

It was also a Tuesday--a Tuesday after the death of Marie Jay.

 

 The cafe was closed until the service was over, as stated by the mother who drove the black SUV down a stretch of road that was rocky to downright pothole ridden, dodging them left and right.

 

When bumping against a small pothole, the woman hisses while gripping onto the steering wheel, “These damn asshats need to fix these roads, ugh! Could kill a person if it wanted!”

 

 A laugh was followed from Mikaela, who spaced out during the entire trip from their neighborhood to the church that the aunt attended on occasions. An entire three city trip to M-Jay’s would be out of the question on most days, but this was the day that Mikaela’s mom was willing to bust a few tires. 

 

“What’re you laughin’ for? It’s true!”

 

“I mean, like,” the brunette took a deep breath from her laughing fit, “what if it  _ did _ ?”

 

“Sue the damn city then,” the mother retorts--and another snort was all the daughter’s response.

 

 Silence followed after that as they exited from the pothole ridden neighborhood. A right on a changing light before it blinked to red, they ended up on the highway shortly after. 

 

 Fingers tapped against the leather steering wheel, the mother’s pucker lips and knitted together eyebrows as she tried thinking of something to say to dwindle out the silence. “Your aunt was a great person, Mikaela,” she began. “Even if you knew her as well as the back of your hand, she...she reminds me of your dad sometimes.”

 

Now  _ that _ lured in the baker’s attention. Her father was rarely talked about, let alone  _ mentioned _ in her presence. “Really?”, she asked.

 

“Yeah. It ain’t surprisin’ that they were twins.”

 

“Uh-huh…”, was all that Mikaela could manage. “How was he like? Besides, y’know, being almost like another half of M-Jay.”

 

 With a swift left turn as she exits off the interstate, they then were approaching a traffic light a few yards away. Silence drifts itself in as her mom blanked out for a moment from the conversation. In response to the question, she says, “He was...an  _ interesting _ person.”

 

“Interesting, huh?”, the brunette mused. “How interesting was he, then?”

 

“They’re both quite eccentric when it came to certain things, like religion, I guess. Both of them had an affinity for sweets-- _ especially _ your dad. Hell, sometimes I wonder if you actually got his crazy ass sweet tooth!”

 

Again, another chuckle that made her face beam. 

 

 Soon, the car slowed when approaching a changing light that blinked to red as they tittered on the white lines. A few cars and trucks drove by vertical from them, heading wherever they work at in the dreary, late morning. Then, the light flickered to green. “Oh  _ please _ , he couldn’t have been that greedy with what you baked!”

 

“If he were still here, he’d prove you otherwise.”

 

 A firm smile tugged at the weary, wrinkled face of Lucia’s. Forest green eyes were glazed with a yearning, grieving glint as they drove down another strip of road. “He also had a lot of integrity, like you.”

 

“Like me? Wh-hah-t? Whaddya mean?”

 

“You both have a high intolerance to ignorance and bullshit; you both would be willing to stand up for anyone who’s bein’ falsely accused, that sort of stuff.”

 

 In a daze, she mutters out a “Huh,” before her elbow leaned against the window. They were now approaching a stretch of road that went through what seemed to be a forest, myriads of pine and evergreen trees grazing through the gray clouds above. The trees themselves blocked off any source of light by the time they reached mid-point. 

 

“Now I’m wondering: how did y’all meet? Or like, what was the first encounter?”

 

“You really are a persistent lil’ gal, aren’t you? Again, you’re your dad’s daughter,” spoke the mother.

 

“Hey! No I’m not!”

 

“Are too,” an unoccupied hand left the steering wheel to pinch Mikaela’s cheeks. 

 

 Mikaela’s hand shooed away the pinching fingers when she fell into another fit of laughter. After it settled down, they were approaching even closer to the church.

 

 “Fine, since you’re so stubborn, I’ll tell,” Lucia began. “I was a bagger for a local store that’s down this street somewhere--” The street was paved with olden houses that could date back to the early sixties in origin-- “And this old, old white lady came up to the register and practically belittled me to death! Like, she says to put the ice cream with her boxed rice and I had to tell her that no, it’ll wet up the box.”

 

“You wanna know what she called me?” 

 

 Her hands swerved the wheel to the right after stopping at a sign. One more turn and they’d be at the church then and there. “Don’t tell me she called you, y’know,  _ that  _ N-word.”

 

“Honey, worse than that--practically every slur under the sun, she pulled it out of her crusty ass and flew ‘em at me! I was this close to goin’ off on her.”

 

Cue that her thumb and index finger grazed upon each other when they were pinched together.

 

 “So,y’know what this man with auburn hair came in doin’? He pulled her to the side with her buggy and led her out the doors. I’m pretty sure she didn’t pay, but who cares?”, the mother finished the recollection of a story. Her hands waved off the kindled fire of held-on grudge--little stuff like that was what Lucia tried letting go, but there was a slim chance of her even doing so at her olden age. “After that, I chatted with him after my shift was over. Apparently he just moved into the neighborhood and all, and you know what happens next.”

 

A snort follows up with a deadpanned, “No I don’t.”

 

“You came into existence--literally.”

 

Whether that was an innuendo or not, a low chuckle rumbled in the baker’s throat. 

 

 With the final left turn, the church could be seen yards away with vehicles of varying models and colors filling the parking lot, some even parked on the roadside curb in defeat of not finding a vacant spot. By turning into the church’s lot and searching for a vacant park that was inevitably filled by the last second, Lucia pulls out and parks aside the road curb.

 

A sigh was heaved when pulling the stick to park, “Let’s do this, Millie.”

 

**_\---_ **

 

At first, Mikaela thought things wouldn’t get more weirder than they have been the previous week before.

 

 Everyone--from elders to youngsters that were known to wander about in the Sanctuary mid-gospel session--was in their seat on the benches. A few people stood at the lecture stand that the priest would be at when doing the weekly gospel. People dressed in different colors of grievance and death--black and white--continued to swarm into the Sanctuary from the wooden front doors. 

 

 Both her and her mother sat in the front row of the six columns that spread themselves out in the Sanctuary alone. Hot tears trailed themselves down Mikaela’s cheeks as just imagining the sheer horror of seeing the aunt encased in a coffin. In itself, it was ghastly to think how the people at the morgue prettied her up like some sort of mannequin.

 

That trail of thinking built up bile to her throat. She’d rather be anywhere but here, for God’s sake. 

 

 As if peering through the foggy depths of her mind, her mother nudged her casually so, “I told them not to bring the casket inside, y’know. Knew you weren’t ready for it.”   
  
She was, to be honest. She just wasn’t-- _ isn’t _ \--ready to see Aunt M-Jay after all these months of sudden absence.

 

 A bulky man in a black trailblazer suit approached the podium alongside with an albino woman that was clad in white. He brought the mic closer from its spot, and began--”We would like to give blessings to the Andersson family. May they find peace and solitude with the grace of God in these trying, terrible times.”   
  
Those in the Sanctuary gave a mutual hum and nod of respect.

 

 He continued on with the speech, “Marie Josie Andersson was a lovely woman, respected by her peers and the community alike. The light may have been snuffed out this day, but there’s still light down that down, however small and dim it may be. Hope finds a way for those in need; hope gives mercy; hope fills us through and through, conquering the despair in our world.” 

 

More hummed and shouted out “Amen!” in response. An applause follows. 

 

 Mikaela, however, didn’t feel the energy to give thanks to the man in black for his blessings and condolences. Hell, she  _ couldn’t _ . The remaining energy that was there in her was sapped the moment the news leaked out, continuing to drain slowly into the bay of nothingness. 

 

She bites the inside of her cheeks to hinder the sobbing but to no avail--someone heard.

 

 The sight of ghosts were common throughout the chapel of a church, especially in the Sanctuary or the bathroom. But not only was this ghost a familiar specter that plucked a few strings in her heart--

 

It was Aunt M-Jay, standing aside the woman in white, swaying side to side.

 

 It was such a visceral and surreal feeling, a sight to behold and be baffled at all at once, to see the lingering will of the aunt. She looked happy, however sublime it was, to see everyone at the service.

 

Then dark green eyes fell on the niece.

 

 Everything dulled to silence at that moment when their eyes interconnected in gaze; Mikaela’s gaze of disbelief and grief while the aunt’s was one of shock and regret. The woman whipped her head to the side when Mikaela nudged at her mom’s arm--”Hey ma, I’mma head out for some fresh air for a few…”   
  
A nod was all that the mother reciprocated.

 

 The brunette got up from the bench and exited out from the alcove of chairs that lined up the Sanctuary, heading out the wooden doors and taking a left to the women’s bathroom.    
  
 She hid herself inside a stall while gospel music blared from a room over, the walls vibrating from the pressure of the high volume. All that for some funeral service--to say you’re celebrating the deceased in question while some actual snakes lurk in the garden of black flowers--it was sickening to her. 

 

 Tears of fire pricked at her eyes and trailed down her cheeks of smeared rouge and blemish. To say this was a surreal experience would be an understatement to Mikaela. First the chorus of Hallelujah to now seeing realistic hallucinations of M-Jay up at the stage and near the podium. It felt all too real for her in those moments of astral projecting. 

 

Inhale, exhale--inhale, exhale--the breathing cycle continued for a few minutes until she was a red-eyed mess.

 

 The restroom doors creaked open and a pair of black heels appeared into view underneath the wide crack of the stall. They clicked against the marble flooring before stopping at the end of the stall lineup--the brunette herself was hiding in the last stall, a stall that was wheelchair accessible. 

 

“Mills,” a familiar, Southern-enriched voice called out, “I know y’er in there.”

 

Responding would be a dumbass move on her part.

 

 She shifted herself over to the right, her shoulder up against the granite finishing wall. She just hoped that the blonde didn’t see the pair of black flats underneath the stall.

 

“A’ight, so it’s gonna be that, huh? You do realize most of these stalls here are open, right?”   
  


_ Ah, fuck _ .

 

“You ain’t a good hide and seeker, Mikaela.”

 

 A weak laugh follows in response. It was a mix between relapsing sobbing and actually laughing at the joke. Weight shifted against the stall door as Enid leans against it with arms wrapped together. “Jokes aside, you a’ight? This stuff kinda gets hard, especially on yer soul.”

 

“I’m fine,” a whisper was all she managed in exchange.

 

“You don’t sound like it. Want another laugh? Imagine your favorite breed of dog without hair.”

 

 Mikaela could only shudder in response of such rhetoric. A Pomeranian dog, without its fluffy fur? An utmost disgusting tale that’d be brought up in some weird nightmare in the dead of night.

 

“Thanks for the nightmares, ‘Nid.”

 

“You’re welcome!”, the blonde beamed from the other side of the door.

 

Then, silence trails in.

 

 The weight that was on the stall then lessened, a sigh following from the other side. “Your aunt was probably one of the great people that I...I could trust.”

 

“How so?”

 

 A trail of no response follows. A few click-clacks from Enid’s heels was heard with another sigh--one more tired. “You know, I never had my parents around. Something happened to ‘em and honestly? I have no idea  _ what _ but- but Aunt M-Jay took me in.

 

 “I mean, she was practically a mother to me despite not actually being my mom! I never asked her what became of my parents because, really, what would a four-year-old understand how her parents  _ died _ ?

 

 “Then when I was- uhm- twelve or thirteen, I asked her: ‘where are mommy and daddy?’ The look she gave me at the time was one I couldn’t shake off, even now. Your dad, Micheal, was the first to say something to me along the lines of ‘We’re your parents now.’”

 

 The blonde paused with her explanation, sniffling quietly. The locks on the stall door twisted and turned and then popped out the head of the brunette. “You...you really miss her, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

 Mikaela got out of the stall and pulled the other into a resonating embrace of a hug. She squeezed firmly enough to let Enid know that she wasn’t the only one in reprimanded grief, but soft enough to say  _ ”I miss her too” _ .

 

For a moment, all of the supernatural charades that happened the previous week blanked out of her mind.

 

For a moment, she relished in the normalcy of this, of grieving.

 

 She pulls away, expecting something from the blonde as her head averted over to the restroom door being pulled open. Another person clad in black came through and plopped herself in one of the stalls.

 

“I guess we could get going,” Mikaela stated. In retort, Enid nods.

 

 While the brunette was the first to head out, the other stood in place at the handicap stall. A wispy figure stood at the sinks, staring at her as well. With their black-grey hair tied into a bun with a few strands of hair framing her face, the blonde knew who it was.

 

‘ _ You could’ve told her much else, Selentia.’ _

 

_ ‘Why would I? Your niece is grieving like hell! You know she could see you.’ _

 

_ ‘Then why not tell her that?’ _

 

_ ‘She needs a break, Mjrana--’ _

 

_ ‘I needed a break, as well. But did I get one? No. Now go tell her-- _ please.’

 

 Forlorn washed over the dark beige complexion of the blonde. A sight echoes throughout the pristine restroom as she approached the doors. The wispy lingering will of M-Jay never took her gaze off the other; Enid then turned back at the sinks where she sat atop the counter--she gives a nod.

 

‘ _ Godspeed, Selentia _ .’

 

And there were but one in that stall.

 

**_\---_ **

 

An hour trails by.

 

 The funeral service then ended in prayers and condolences to Mikaela and her mother, some tearful in sentiment while others filled with apathetic heartache. The brunette's eyes were bloodshot from tears and crying consistently throughout the service that it completed the hallmarks of her night owl habits—smudged eyeliner that complimented the black bags weighing under her eyes.   

 

 It was a longer service than what both of them expected, with the sun setting. The brunette clambered into the passenger's seat of her mother's truck, swinging it shut before any onlooker noticed her. She would then lock her door—eventually then all the other doors until her mother came. 

 

 So much raced in her mind; why was the lingering will of her aunt still in tact to earth? Shouldn't it be, well, somewhere else? 

 

 She pulled her knees to her chest, her head resting on the kneecaps. Her gaze peered out of the dimmed windows that blacked out the inside view of the truck. Emerald eyes locked on with pale grey-blue eyes glazed in worry. 

 

Why was Enid here,  _ again _ ?

 

 Dark beige knuckles knock against the glass when Enid notices that the brunette is on the other side of the door. Mikaela flicks the unlock switch, opening the passenger's side door to a crack. 

 

"What do you want, 'Nid?" 

 

"I...I have to ask you something, Mikaela."

 

 It's one thing for anyone remotely close to the baker to use her actual name than nickname—considering how she always preferred the latter over the former. It's another when  _ Enid _ of all people drop the nickname charade.  

 

 Her freckled, light wood complexion was washed out to a bleached cream of apprehension and anxiety. Knitted eyebrows matched with shifty pale gray eyes that observed the parking lot. 

 

"'Bout what? We just talked, like, minutes ago—" 

 

 "It's something more than that," the blonde cuts off the other. Realizing her jumpy voice and rush to justification, she pursed her lips and took in a breath. "I...You...Did you happen to see Aunt M-Jay at the balcony stand?"

 

Everything blanks out for her yet again. 

 

 The bile surging up to her throat, the burning sting of tears welling up, the uncanny feeling of her entire mouth drying—it's another round to a war that was thought to be already finished with. Enid pulls back from the truck, turning away. "Shit, man, didn't know you...you did."

 

Mikaela bit on her lying tongue. 

 

 Enid continued anyways, "Besides, it's normal. Heard that many people see their loved ones at churches before they're buried. Maybe it could be just her saying 'I love you, even in spirit'!" 

 

A scoff-like laugh was forced out from the other. "Yeah, I guess." 

 

 But she knows—no,  _ knew _ —it wasn't a mere ghost or lingering will. That specter expressed lively emotions as if it were corporeal,  _ alive _ . Mikaela stared at it and she stared right back at her with the energy of being alive. 

 

It was something impossible, undeniably defiant to the laws of life and death. 

 

 Silence took pursuit in the conversation that ended on a tart, bitter note. Enid cleared her throat, pulling down the brunette for a tight hug—a tighter one than her usual overbearing bear hugs. It was an embrace that was in grievance, in longing, in hope that nothing happens to Mikaela. It was at that moment the prick of tears welling in her eyes was a pain of nostalgia welcomed. 

 

The blonde pulled away at last, nodding at the brunette in their temporary parting ways.

 

 In that tight embrace, Mikaela wished the same for Enid, for her safety. Being drained of emotions due to so many being poured out all at once, that was the one thing she could imply without words— _ "I don't want to lose you, too." _

 

She just hoped the blonde felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh? a double update?   
> watch me go off the radar for another month or two like the gremlin i am 
> 
> (also: double points for anyone who gets the chapter title's reference. it ain't, really, but still ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are a lovely thing for someone as self-critical as i owo


End file.
